Lola would have been 18 months old today. (Yes I am still counting the months as they go by)
Lucy is three weeks old.
The last three weeks have seen us continue our life on the rollercoaster. Lucy has been in and out of hospital with an infection, her weightgain was minimal, we had feeding issues and the skin on her hand has been damaged by the IV antibiotics possibly requiring plastic surgery sometime down the track. My anxiety has been enormous, I felt like I was failing my baby and that I am incapable of taking care of her. My confidence as a mother took a massive blow.
But Lucy is well again now, in fact she seems to be thriving, and I am regaining my confidence through positive self talk prompted by my caring friends and family.
Lucy is so divine, I am losing hours, days just holding her close and looking at her. I adore watching her big brother and sister dote on her. Millie is so proud of being a big sister and tells people randomly at every opportunity. Jackson waits till noone is looking and then covers her in kisses.
I imagined this time to be just the bliss and happiness. Someone told me our grief would be easier to bear when our baby arrived and they were right. I, however, took those words to mean that our grief would disappear. I can see now that that was naive. It is impossible for our grief that Lola is not here to disappear. It underpins all of our life with Lucy. It makes the bliss more blissful, the happiness happier but it also amplifies the anxiety, worry and fear. Lola is constantly in our minds and so much of our journey with Lucy makes us think of Lola.
When things are good (i.e. when my kids are healthy and well) they are amazing. Lucy has brought so much joy and hope to all of us. There is, however, a little part deep inside me that is constantly worrying that it will all be taken away from us in the blink of an eye.